


Snowblind

by romanticalgirl



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now is the winter of our discontent</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowblind

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/)**nolivingman** is still evil. It bears repeating.
> 
> Originally posted 1-8-06

The night closes around him as the snow falls, stinging his face with its false heat before it melts against his skin. He almost laughs as he flexes his hands to feel them because he cannot believe that he is warmer than the cold blackness that surrounds him.

He has heard her return from her sojourn with Arthur, no doubt luring him with pale limbs and red lips to dance with her in the grove. But her footsteps do not carry the tread of satisfaction or satiation. They are heavy with longing and something more. They stop not far from him and he can feel her gaze as it travels the length of his body, hunched against the cold.

“Do you seek something you do not find?” He asks softly, unable to resist the desire to see her eyes flare to life. Something sparks in them as she meets his gaze, watching him unfurl from his position and stand against the tree. She wears wisps of cloth that flow around her and he feels the cold for her as she tilts her head slightly. “Or have you found what you seek?”

“Your Arthur is stubborn.”

“No more so, I would guess, than the wraith before me.” He smiles wickedly, a natural curl to his lips honed in battles on the field and in the bedroom. “Does he not fall to his knees before you and swear his undying love?”

“He believes in Rome.”

“You cannot expect that a few words woven with promises of land would sway him from his lifelong course of his return to Rome. The only thing that means more to him than its alabaster sheen is keeping any covenant he made, such as this one to Rome. To us.”

“He is blinded by that alabaster sheen.”

“Arthur is a man of vision,” he lifts his shoulders in resignation. “Sometimes it blinds him to what he does not wish to see.”

“And you are not?” Her voice is arch and high, mocking him. “Blinded by your unending fields of grass and sky?”

“You are just as blind, are you not?" His voice is gently mocking, reproving. "Your purpose since Arthur freed you is to sway him to your cause.” He doesn’t move as she steps closer to him. “You look at him with eyes of need and desperation and hope that he will see.”

“And how do you look at him?”

“At Arthur? He is my leader. I go where he goes, follow where he leads. Until I receive that parchment from Rome that declares I follow no man and then I will follow no man.” He reaches out and catches the flickering fabric of her gown between his fingers, rubbing it against his cold skin. “He is a brother in arms. A friend. I do not think he will save me. Would not let him if he tried.” He rubs his thumb over a larger swatch of the material. “What will you do if he does not come over to your cause? Vanish into the wood?”

“Why should you care?” She asks him lightly, her hand touching his, stopping its movement. She traces the leather lacings at his wrists with a light finger. “You will be gone, will you not?”

“I will.” He nods slowly, bending his head to hers. His breath fans over her skin and he tastes her shuddering breath. “That I will.”

Her mouth meets his, though he does not know who moved first. Her hands are in his hair, the snow sleek curls melting in her grip as he wraps his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. He does not feel the cold as he breaks the kiss and lowers his head to the curve of her shoulder, sliding her gown away from her pale flesh. His mouth moves over her skin and she shivers in his arms, her teeth sharp and stinging on his earlobe as she bites him, sucking the tender flesh until he feels it again, painful tingles of pleasure coursing down his spine.

He picks her up and turns her, pushing her against the tree. She makes a noise that he feels more than hears and tilts her head back, looking at him with wild, feral eyes. She smiles and it’s almost a snarl as he pushes her gown further aside, baring her breast to his eyes for the flash of an instant before his mouth closes over the hard tip of her nipple, his tongue lashing it until her moans of pleasure echo in his head.

Her fingers dig into his skin, clamoring for purchase against his tunic and the leather. He raises his head, his breath like smoke between them as he frees her other breast, bending his head again. She winds one leg around his, her body moving into his as he closes his lips on her, sucking at the pebbled flesh.

She works one hand between them, curving it over the leather of his pants, the movement bringing heat flooding through him to her hand. He pulls away, gasping into the dark and meeting her gaze again. Her eyes are black as the night, the glint of silver snow lighting them in the dark as she releases him, both hands moving between them to struggle with the stiff laces. Her breath is hot between them as his hands skirt her hips, lifting the mass of her gown from her feet to her waist, his body responding to her sharp gasp.

He echoes her as she pulls the leather apart and he feels the sting of cold. He groans against the column of her neck and lifts her, her gown falling around his hands as he pins her to the tree, his body holding her there as he shoves her dress out of his way, his hand circling the heat of his cock as he guides it against her. She bites his shoulder as he pushes inside her, his body throbbing in time with the pulsing fire between her thighs. He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her there as he inhales deeply.

She shudders around him and looks at him, the wide, surprised look in her eyes enough to tell him of her youth and inexperience. He captures her mouth, biting the swollen lower lip before finding her tongue with his, the thrust and parry as sharp as that of his swords as his hips join in the rhythm, rocking inside the tight shaft of flesh that surrounds him.

She winds her hands back into his hair, tugging at the dark strands as she moves against him, sucking hard at his tongue as her body draws him deeper. He braces one hand on the tree and breaks the kiss, smiling before bending his head back to her neck, his beard burning the pale skin to red in the waning light of the moon.

Stiffening in his hands, she throws her head back in a wordless cry. The horses shift in the distance and he feels the heat of her explode around him like a fire given new life. She continues moving, grinding down against him, both of her legs wrapped around his waist. He bites at the curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder and she whimpers and the sound is his undoing, his body jerking hard and fast as he spills himself inside her.

His muscles cord and shake in the aftermath as he feels her lower her feet to the ground. The cold rushes in on them all at once and he feels her shiver as his body does the same. He moves back, the tree behind her preventing her from distancing herself from him, but his hands stay on her, tugging her gown back up onto her shoulders to cover the marks he left in his wake.

She straightens her skirts as he laces up the leathers, the cold burrowing in his blood. Her heat remains with him, but fades slowly as the last lace is done. “This land,” she whispers so softly it sounds as if it comes to him on the sudden shift of wind, “has its charms.”

“It’s charms,” he touches her lips and gives her a rueful smile as he sinks down, settling back against base of the tree, “milady, are not mine to claim.”  



End file.
